


Prank

by SpyVsTailor



Category: Boardwalk Empire
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 05:33:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5773273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpyVsTailor/pseuds/SpyVsTailor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rothstein pays a visit to Mrs. Rohan and Emily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prank

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he assured her.

Still, Margaret eyed her daughter, seated so comfortably on Mr. Rothstein’s lap, drawing on his newspaper with a short, nearly finished pencil nub.

“She’s never been so bold before,” she went on nervously.

“Why? We’re good friends,” he said calmly, allowing her daughter to draw on the newspaper he had brought with him. “Besides, she’s only scribbling on the gossip column.”

Watching the way he gingerly gathered up her daughter’s braced legs and settled them comfortably across his knee so that the girl was draped across his lap properly instead of half on and half off him, leaning against his shoulder, Margaret sighed wistfully, remembering a time when she believed her children would have a father figure in their life.

“And what is it you’re drawing, darling?” He asked Emily.

“A horse,” she chirped.

Mr. Rothstein smiled that closed mouth, cat-like smile of his. “Are you fond of horses?”

“Yes.”

“Me too.” Peering over Emily’s head, he addressed Margaret. “Didn’t you have two when you moved in?”

Margaret smiled a little. “After school Teddy usually plays with his friends until supper.”

“Ah, so he’s made friends then?”

“Yes, thankfully.”

“Well, I hope they’re good boys. New York boys can…” he paused as though searching for the right word, rolling his tongue over his back teeth as he thought. “They can be a bit urban.”

Unsure what that meant, Margaret merely smiled and nodded.

“Has trouble making friends, does he?” Mr. Rothstein asked.

“Teddy’s always had problems,” she said and left it at that.

He was quiet, soaking in the information, watching Emily as she drew on the newspaper that now rested against his forearm.

“When I was a boy I used to play dice, my father never cared much for the habit,” he finally said in his gentle tone. “Of course, I grew up to be a gambler, but…at least I think I turned out decent enough.”

Margaret looked down at her hands, placed primly in her lap.

“Well, aside from a few flaws,” he added with a sly grin.

She smiled too.

This was something she found she missed, just talking to someone, connecting. With Hans it was always scurrying with her head down, avoiding his eyes, doing her wifely duties. With Nucky it was like she had been placed on a shelf, sure he handled her with care, but only once a month when he took her down to dust her off. There wasn’t really communication with him.

But with Mr. Rothstein, with his calm, almost serene manner, she felt she had someone who she could talk to, someone who would listen.

It still struck her as funny that he was a man feared by some, but tete a tete as they were, he was more like a kindly family friend.

Well, he was sort of a family…acquaintance?

Margaret frowned, wondering just what exactly he was to her family.

As she pondered this in amiable silence with the man, her daughter slid down from his lap, her braces clanking as she hit the floor, staying upright with Mr. Rothstein’s help until she could grab her crutches.

There was a wistful, almost tragic look in the man’s eyes as Emily hobbled off for her bedroom.

He returned his attention to his forgotten teacup as soon as the child was gone and sipped at it.

“You asked me here for a reason,” he said, getting down to business.

Margaret reached for the piece of paper with the latest stock tips on it and handed it over to him with a firm instruction, “Mr. Bennett is also working on something big, I’ll call you once I figure out what it is and what the risks are.”

“So, wait by the telephone?” He finished for her, eyes on the paper.

“I wouldn’t go far.”

Folding the note, Mr. Rothstein tucked the paper away into his inner jacket pocket and smiled at her. “Miss Rohan, you are an invaluable business partner.”

They fell silent again, Margaret idly rubbing her finger over the twill of her skirt, Mr. Rothstein sipping his tea and nibbling at his teacake.

Setting his cup down with a soft, determined clink, Mr. Rothstein cleared his throat politely, “it’s none of my business, Miss Rohan, but I am curious as to why you came to New York of all places.”

“My brother lives here, with my sisters, I wanted to be closer to them.”

“Your brother is a…?”

“He works as a bricklayer now, jumps jobs a lot,” she explained.

“Ah.”

They were quiet once more. It was an easy silence, one that Margaret appreciated.

“It was a mockery of a marriage,” she admitted, practically blurted.

Mr. Rothstein was quiet, sipping his tea, but very clearly listening.

“Nucky and I. At first he saw me as a replacement for his first wife and I wanted to get out of the mire. That is to say, I loved Nucky, I did. I admired him, but the man I admired wasn’t the one I married.” She fell quiet, clamping her mouth shut and frowning at herself.

All that happened was Mr. Rothstein quirked one of his dramatic, dark brows and set his teacup down.

“He took a lot of women to his bed,” she went on, eyes on the hallway where her daughter had wandered off to. “So I took one man to my bed. One.”

Realizing just what she had said and who she had said this to, she quickly offered him a sheepish half smile and said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tell you all of this.”

“Nucky has never been good at discretion,” was all the man across from her supplied after a thoughtful moment.

Margaret wasn’t sure how to take that, so she remained quiet, her eyes moving to the window, watching a pigeon as it landed on her window sill and pecked at the soil of her geraniums.

She didn’t know what she expected. Did she want Mr. Rothstein to rail against Nucky’s behaviour with her as an ally? Did she want him to offer her a solution to all wretched men everywhere?

Maybe she just wanted to share her story with someone.

Emily hobbled back into the room with that awkward limp of hers, a piece of paper held in the hand clenched around her left crutch.

Her presence seemed to brighten the room as Mr. Rothstein smiled warmly at the girl.

Her daughter stopped by the man and like a good girl waited until she was addressed.

“Why, hello there,” Mr. Rothstein greeted her jovially. “You have something to say, darling?”

“I drew this for you,” Emily whispered shyly.

“For me?” Mr. Rothstein flashed a wide grin at Margaret and took the piece of paper, he held it up and examined it. “A blue horse! Lovely!” He reached out and tweaked Emily’s chin playfully. “How’d you know that blue is my favourite colour?”

Emily shrugged.

“You can go back to your room now,” Margaret said to her little girl. Waiting until the girl limped off back to her room, she stood up and took hold of her teapot. “More tea, Mr. Rothstein?”

He waved his hand. “No, thank you. I shouldn’t keep you much longer, I’m sure you have your evening meal to fix.”

Margaret stood to see him out properly, and they were halfway to the door, when Mr. Rothstein paused and turned to her.

“May I use your telephone before I go?” He asked.

She nodded and motioned to it.

Smiling, the man scooped it up and spoke into it, “yes, Atlantic City, please.” Holding the mouthpiece to his chest, he asked, “what is the name of that tailor shop Nucky uses?”

Margaret frowned in confusion. “Fitzgerald’s.”

“What’s the owner’s first name?”

“Joe.”

“Is that– hold on,” he held up the mouthpiece again. “Business, Fitzgerald’s. Thank you. Is that what Nucky calls him?”

“Yes, why?” Margaret asked, stepping in closer to the man.

Mr. Rothstein smirked his cat-like smirk and held up the mouthpiece again, clearing his throat.

“Joe?” He barked suddenly.

If she hadn’t been looking right at him as he spoke, she would have jumped thinking Nucky was in the room.

“Joe, this is Nucky Thompson,” he went on, still smirking. “Yes…yes…I’ll be sure and tell her…yes…listen Joe, I’m going to Europe for June, goddamned hellhole, but I got business over there. You have any of those bathing suits available in my size?”

Margaret pressed her hand to her mouth, brow puckering. Was this really happening before her eyes? She had no idea how to react.

“Yes, the striped ones. You can make some? Good, okay. I’ll take a dozen. Don’t ask why, Joe, I don’t pay you to ask questions, just make me a dozen of those damned things.” Mr. Rothstein smiled widely as she scoffed in shocked amusement. “Oh, good, yeah just add it to my account and send them to…right, yes. Alright. Yes…yes…Joe…Joe…Joe listen, I have a meeting right now. Okay. Yes, you too.”

Hanging up, Mr. Rothstein stared at the telephone for a moment, hand resting on the table it sat on, before he turned to her and bowed a little.

“Thank you for the tea and cakes, Miss Rohan,” he addressed her calmly as though he hadn’t just imitated her estranged husband on the telephone with his tailor.

She gawped a little, biting her bottom lip to keep from looking completely shocked. It had all seemed to out of character for mild mannered, gentle Mr. Rothstein that she was stricken unable to find a reaction appropriate for it.

Setting his boater on his head, Mr. Rothstein offered her his hand and said, “as always, it’s been a treat.”

Taking his hand, she finally managed to find words, saying, “you’re always welcome.”

**Author's Note:**

> More oneshots from the boneyard of my tumblr account. And yes, they will most definitely all be Marnie.


End file.
